


I Guess We Were Always Misfits

by iamunperceivable



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Realism, Vampires, Van Days, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 00:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30097152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamunperceivable/pseuds/iamunperceivable
Summary: Patrick's been a werewolf for a long time, and Pete's grappling with being a newly turned vampire, not to mention a maybe sort of crush on his friend. Joe and Andy are confused but supportive.This is the first piece of fanfiction I've written since way back in 8th grade, but I just had to get this one out of my head. Hope someone enjoys it :)
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz





	I Guess We Were Always Misfits

Patrick just wishes he could have a week of tour where he wasn’t worrying about Pete. It was hard enough trying to keep a secret from three dudes you sleep in a van with, but being afraid to leave Pete’s side for fear he’ll crack his head open just made it harder. Don’t get him wrong, he’s best friends with the idiot, it just seems like there’s always something up with him. And it’s not like Patrick doesn’t have his own shit to deal with. He’s gotta run off every time a full moon is due, make some excuse about needing a walk or have Andy cover for him as he sneaks out of the van. The whole werewolf thing is honestly pretty exhausting, especially now that he’s got Pete to worry about, too.  
The first thing he noticed was how pale Pete was. He had looked fine when they left the venue to head back to their hotel room, but the next morning his skin looked almost grey, the bags under his eyes seemingly weighing him down, his shoulders sagging just from the effort of getting to the van. Patrick had tried to question him on it, but Pete just shrugged him of, made some dirty joke about not getting much sleep. He knew there was something else to it, though. He could see it in the way Pete avoided his eyes, in the way he curled into himself and fell asleep in the back of the van, despite the loud bickering from Andy and Joe in the front seat.  
“Patrick, he’s fine,” Joe had said when he snapped at them to quiet down.  
He didn’t understand, though, didn’t know that Patrick could tell when something was up with Pete, could feel it in his bones. Pete could’ve acted like his normal, horribly cheerful self, and Patrick would still know. It wasn’t like he could explain it, though, at least without offering a very exposing explanation, so he just huffed and sat back in his seat, trying to quell the aggression by focusing on the moving landscape outside the van.  
Now, Pete looking like he hadn’t slept in days wasn’t especially uncommon. The dude rarely slept a full two nights in a row, let alone restfully, but Patrick just knew there was something different about this though, could feel it in the way Pete avoided his eyes, in the way he went back to the van after each venue without stopping to drink or socialize or anything, really. He tried to ignore it though, tried to convince himself he was just being overly protective, until his phone gave him a calendar update. “Hey, Pete, it says here you’ve got a call with your therapist at seven tonight, you need us to push the show back a few minutes so you have time?”  
Pete looked up at Patrick, a mix of surprise and guilt on his face as he met his eyes, then quickly shifted them away. “Uh, no, it’s- I pushed it back, she’s gonna call me in a few weeks. You don’t have to push the showtime.”  
Patrick eyed Pete suspiciously, moving closer. “Pete, you know-”  
“I said it’s fine, Patrick,” Pete snapped, “Everything’s alright, I don’t need a babysitter.”  
Patrick jumped at the abrupt use of his name, feeling the aggression roll off Pete in waves. “Look, I never said I was your babysitter, I just want to make sure you’re good. Last time you started pushing appointments you just stopped going and-”  
“I’m not stopping. Like I said everything is fine, I’ll talk to her next week, I just-”  
“Just what Pete? What’s wrong? You’re hiding things again, I know you.” Patrick huffed in frustration as Pete rolled his eyes, moving to get out of the van. Just as he moved to leave, Patrick shot his hand out to grab his wrist. As soon as he touched it, though, he felt something off, felt something coming off Pete in waves, a new smell he wasn’t familiar with. It took him a moment to realize he couldn’t feel a pulse through Pete’s wrist, like he could usually this close to a full moon. Pete took advantage of his shock to wrench his arm away, turning around to continue his walk to the venue, and Patrick followed, stumbling to follow him as he walked away from the van without looking back. Finally he caught up, grabbing the back of Pete’s hoodie, and stammering to find the words he needed. “What- I just- you… Something’s off, Pete. Just tell me what it is. Please.”  
Pete stiffened for a moment, and Patrick hoped he could hear the desperation in his voice. He just wanted to make sure that Pete was okay, couldn’t risk losing him again. Pete didn’t turn from where he faced the venue to look at Patrick, but his shoulders slumped in an admission of tiredness. Whatever he was hiding, it was taking a serious toll on him. He turned to face Patrick, the vulnerability back in his eyes as he let Patrick see how he really felt, feel the exhaustion and fear behind them. “Fine, we’ll talk after the show, when I have time to explain. Just us, alright?”  
Patrick sighed in relief, nodding and moving up to match Pete’s strides on their way to the venue. “Okay.”

*

Pete doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. Not that he has a great track record for knowing anything, really, but this is insane.  
He knew he probably shouldn’t have agreed to go to the club with Joe after they finished loading the van, but he reasoned that since it was their last hotel night for a while, he should probably do his partying while he still had a shower to wash the grime off in. He also reasoned that he couldn’t go in sober, and let Joe talk him into smoking before they headed out.  
The club was fun for the first hour or so. Pete liked the anonymity the dimly lit room and loud music offered. He liked knowing that no one who saw him now would remember him the next day. He was just a part of the backdrop. Once the novelty wore off, though, Pete started to feel suffocated by the heat and low ceilings, not to mention a little too high to be around so many moving bodies. He had checked in with Joe to let him know where he was, then slipped out the back door, breathing in the brisk night air.  
He remembers looking up at the sky, appreciating it’s openness after how oppressively heavy it felt inside. He remembers wishing the light pollution didn’t block out so many stars, but he was at least grateful to at least see the crescen moon, bright and oh so far away. He didn’t notice another presence outside until he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his own head.  
“Need some air?” Pete looked back to see a guy he had noticed earlier in the club, sitting in the back and looking over the dance floor as he sipped a drink. Up close, he notices the dude is a few inches taller than him, a little scruff of a beard on his cheeks and neck. Pete notices the way the man smirks at him, eyes him up slightly possessively, for some reason, and the small part of his brain dedicated to rational thought knows he should be afraid, knows he should probably go find Joe. There’s something he can’t quite place that draws him in, though. He steps closer to him, deciding it must be a dangerous cocktail of horniness, weed, and adrenaline keeping him outside.  
‘Yeah, that club was crazy, man. Got a little hot for me.”  
“Thought you’d be used to heat by now, considering your face.” Pete blushes at the compliment, and he knows it’s cheesy and not at all smooth, but something still keeps him leaning closer to the man, now brandishing a smirk of his own.  
Pete moves the hair out of his face and looks more directly at the man, deciding to have a little fun with the situation, the weed in his system making him feel warm and fuzzy, egging him on. “Glad to impress someone, you’re not so bad yourself. You-”  
Before he knows what’s happening, the words are being kissed out of his mouth, his back scraping against the brick wall of the building as he kisses back, trying to match this man’s pace.And god, what a pace it is. Pete barely knows this dude, had barely spoken a full sentence to him before they were sucking face. The kiss is all speed and heat, and Pete is too caught up in the moment to care that their teeth are crashing together or that the guys mouth tastes weirdly metallic. There’s some kind of warning signal firing off in the very back of Pete’s mind, but the pull this dude has on him only gets stronger, drowning out the little voice that tells Pete he should definitely be running back in the club to find Joe The man breaks the kiss and Pete gasps in a few breaths, reaching his fingers up to run them through the man’s hair as he moves from kissing his jaw to licking down the side of his neck, sucking a spot near his pulse point that Pete’s sure will be a hickey in the morning. He’s about to make some joke about the stranger being awfully friendly when he doesn’t even know his name, when a pain shoots from his neck. Did this guy just bite him?  
Before Pete has time to process the fact that he’s in an alleyway with a random stranger that fucking bit him in a city where he knows all of three people, his shock and anger and pain melts away into numbness. He knows somewhere in the back of his brain he should push the guy off him, tell him to fuck off and go find Joe, but he’s suddenly barely able to remain standing, only able to let out a sigh as the feeling slowly drains from his body. The crack of his head against the bricks as it lolls back is barely a distant memory, the pain not making it through the static in Pete’s brain. Suddenly, after what could’ve been hours or seconds in the time Pete floats in, the support of the stranger’s body is gone, and he can’t stp himself from slumping onto the ground against the wall, his eyes fluttering as he fades out of consciousness.  
Pete was woken up after god knows how long by Joe shaking his shoulder, stumbling slightly and slurring his words when he mumbled. “C’mon, dude, it’s like 3 a.m., we gotta get back to the hotel.  
Pete’s limbs feel like concrete as he moves them, but he listens anyways, his head still foggy. He leans into the arm Joe gives him for support, more for its warmth than anything else. He shivers from the chill in his bones, not quite remembering the night being this cold. The trip back to the hotel is a blur of light and cold, and Pete collapses into the darkness of their room and the warmth of the bed, falling into a restless sleep.  
Pete knew that Patrick could sense something was wrong with him after that night. He was suddenly more aware of the movement of his face, the small ways his breathing changed when he grew suspicious or annoyed with Pete’s secretiveness. Everything felt more intense, like someone had turned up the saturation on whatever box television Pete was inside. Suddenly, the sun was too bright and people were to loud, and he had this gnawing inside him, like he needed something he hadn’t needed before.  
He had planned on keeping this all to himself, deeming it to much to unpack, especially with someone like Patrick staring at him like he knew things about Pete that even Pete didn’t know. But so much for that plan, because now he’s sitting in some 24 hour diner, picking at a waffle and trying not to acknowledge Patrick staring expectantly from across the table, his eyes rummaging through all of Pete’s feelings, trying to find the one’s he’s so expertly hidden. It’s unnerving, honestly, it almost feels primal when Patrick looks at him like this.  
“Pete.”  
Pete rolls his eyes, still trying to save face, keeping his smile bright and avoiding eye contact at all costs. “Patrick.”  
Patrick huffs at this, and Pete hears the irritation in his voice, feels the concern and care that lies underneath. “C’mon, don’t mess with me. What’s going on? Seriously.”  
Pete puts his fork down and finally risks a glance at Patrick’s face. He’s staring at Pete expectantly, tapping his fingers on the table like he can’t sit still. Anyone else would think Patrick hated him in this moment, but Pete knew he was just worried. If he was really angry, they’d be in the parking lot throwing punches instead of picking at breakfast food and staring. Pete’s stil not sure telling him is the best idea, though. He knows it’ll just worry Patrick even more. He shifts in his seat, letting the smile drop from his face. “I really don’t think you want to know.”  
“Don’t give me that bullshit. I know something is wrong, and you gotta tell me before- it’s just that last time...” Patrick trails off, and Pete’s grateful he lets his past mistakes be left unsaid. He remembers the self-destructive distance he put between him and Patrick better than anyone, except maybe Patrick, who Pete knew still resented the fact he hadn’t caught any of Pete’s warning signs.“I’m just worried, alright? I don’t want things to get bad again, don’t want you to get bad.”  
“It’s not that, I swear,” Pete rushes, trying to sound reassuring, “It’s just- man, I can’t tell you! You’re gonna think I’m insane.”  
“I’ve watched you perform, Pete. The ship of me thinking you’re sane sunk a long time ago,” Patrick breathes a little laugh at that, but Pete can see his irritation with him growing. “I just need to know what’s going on. I mean, you look exhausted, you’re avoiding people, you’re missing therapy. These are red flags. And I know it’s not my business, it’s just- I’m your friend, Pete. I just want to help.”  
Pete sighs, wishing the diner booth would swallow him whole. “I swear it’s not that, and the therapy thing was just one time. I already rescheduled my appointment, I just- I didn’t know how to explain this to her either.”  
“You know I’m not going to believe you until you tell me what’s going on.”  
Pete is ready to pull a stupid smirk back on his face, give Patrick some snappy reply, when he makes the mistake of looking him in the face again. The anger is gone, but he’s still staring at Pete intensely, like nothing matters besides whatever’s wrong with him. And how is he supposed to say no to that? He feels something swell in his chest, like he could laugh or cry or weirdly kiss Patrick, but he swallows it down and takes a breathe before muttering, “Fine, but you have to promise not to freak out.”  
“Promise,” Patrick agrees, though he looks like he’s bracing for Pete to reach across the table and slap him or tell him his mom died.  
Pete takes another breath and looks around to make sure their waitress isn’t walking back to the table before reluctantly pushing down the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing. He holds his breath as Patrick stares at the two small, near circular scabs on the side of his neck and the bruise that surrounds them, flowering out and touching his collarbone. Patrick’s eyes widen and he let’s out a quiet “oh”.  
“Knew you’d freak out.”  
“I’m not freaking out!” Patrick blurts out, a little too loudly, before taking in a breath and looking at Pete’s face, obviously avoiding the bruise with his eyes. Pete readjusts his hoodie to hide it before Patrick continues. “Just- I- you don’t have a pulse.”  
Pete stares at him in confusion, instinctively grabbing his wrist to reassure himself. Sure enough, there’s nothing there, no matter how many time he tries to find it. “What- how did you know that?”  
“I, uh, noticed earlier, I just didn’t mention it.” Patrick looks a little embarrassed, like he’s said something he shouldn’t have. “When did this happen?”  
Pete explains everything to Patrick, noticing the anger reignite in his eyes when he talks about what happened at the club. “He just, like, left you there? Passed out? And you didn’t think to mention this, or, I don’t know, go to the hospital or something? Call the police?”  
“What was I supposed to say? Some dude bit me outside a club? Besides, I didn’t even know the guy’s name, and I just figure the reason I felt weird was that I’d smoked too much. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”  
Patrick leans back in his side of the booth at that, considering for a moment. “Fine, I guess that makes sense,” he says, pausing for a minute to laugh at himself, “Well, now it’s gonna be your turn to question my sanity.”  
“Why?’  
“Pete, you just- I mean it would all make sense… Do you think you’re a vampire?”  
Pete thinks for a moment before shrugging. “I mean, I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought of that?”  
“What do you mean you hadn’t thought of that? You get bit by a random stranger and all of a sudden you look like death, you’re pulse is gone-”  
“That would explain the sunburn, I guess.”  
“Sunburn? It’s September, Pete!” Patrick is nearly standing in the booth now, hands clutching the table, speaking to Pete in a strained voice that would probably be shouting if they weren’t inside. “How did the whole vampire thing not cross your mind?”  
“I don’t know, it just feels silly, right? Like, isn’t that just a myth? I wore plastic fangs and a cape last Halloween, for Christ’s sake, this just feels so unreal.” Pete takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself before he realizes- “wait, does this mean i have to, like, eat people?”  
Patrick looks like he’s about to answer, but he stops whatever he’s about to say. “Uh, I don’t know, have you been eating normal food the past few days?”  
Pete starts to answer yes, then realizes he can’t remember eating anything since that night. “I don’t think I have. Huh, weird.”  
“Pete, you haven’t been eating?”  
“I drank a gatorade today.”  
“A gatorade is not a balanced diet,” Patrick huffs, the worry coming back into his eyes, “Well, you could try to eat your waffle.”  
Pete looks down at the waffle sitting on his plate and cuts of a piece, stabbing it with his fork. He puts it in his mouth, afraid it’s going to burn him or some other weird demonic shit, but it doesn’t do anything that a normal waffle wouldn’t do. It’s buttery and a little sweet as he chews it, greasy in a good way like only diner food can be. He swallows his bite and smiles a little warily at Patrick, who’s looking at him like his head might just fall off.  
Just as he’s about to declare the bite a success, it reaches his stomach and he knows something is wrong. He runs to the bathroom with Patrick closely following him, and he guesses his body has decided that waffles are no longer for him. He cleans his mouth before he exits the bathroom to see Patrick standing right outside the door, looking worried yet again. Pete looks down at his feet. He’s getting sick of all the concern. He knew he should’ve just kept this to himself. Now everything is just as bad, and Patrick’s upset on top of everything else, and-  
“Hey, everything’s fine,” Patrick says, as if he could hear the thoughts rattling around in Pete’s head, face softening into a small smile as he tries to comfort him. It was a little unnerving, but it also made his stomach flip in a way he didn’t think was from the waffle.  
“Well, looks like normal food is no longer my thing.” Pete takes a minute to mourn the loss of waffles from his diet and drapes dramatically over Patrick, earning him a small smile as he almost falls in trying to support him.  
“Well you have to eat something tonight, come one,” Patrick says, and just like that he’s throwing some cash on their table for the food and whisking Pete out the door.

*

Before Pete has time to let Patrick’s words sink in, he’s led him across the street to the parking lot of some grocery store. He’s jogging to keep up with Patrick’s relentless pace and trying not to focus too hard on how good it feels for Patrick to grab his hand like that, when the words finally hit him. “Wait, Trick, stop, what do you mean I need to eat?”  
Patrick looks at him like he’s asked a stupid question. “I mean that you haven’t eaten in days, and living things generally need food to survive,” he says, pulling him closer to the store where a few dudes lean against the side of the building, smoking cigarettes and talking to each other. “And since the diner waffle didn’t work, we’ll just have to find something that’s more suited to your, um, needs.”  
Pete’s eyes widen as he realizes just what his “needs” are, and stops Patrick from getting closer to the store. “Hey, there’s no way,” he whispers harshly to Patrick, his eyes darting between him and the strangers that Patrick might think are his dinner, “I mean, I know I can get wild at shows sometimes, but I’m really not a violent dude, and plus what if they call the cops? Then what am I-”  
“Woah, calm down, dude.” Patrick has the nerve to roll his eyes at Pete’s reluctance to just, casually do some murder in a grocery store parking lot. “I’m not making you attack anyone, at least not before we’ve exhausted all other options. Just, come on.”  
Pete relaxes a little at that and lets Patrick pull him into the store, leading him past the snack food and candy aisles they would usually be running down, all the way to the meat section in the back of the store. Pete looks down at the shrink-wrapped packs of ground beef and steak, and while it doesn’t exactly look appetizing, there is something in him that perks up when he realizes he can smell it. He puts aside his competing feelings of disgust and relief and looks over at Patrick. “Oh, I hadn’t even thought to try this. I was already grappling with the morality of taking out one of the dudes outside.”  
“Well, I figured that beef and pork and stuff probably has about the same nutritional value as people,” Patrick says, “and really you’re body is probably just craving iron, and maybe protein, not to mention your actual genetic makeup might’ve changed in the transformation, so it’s really important to replenish your amino acids, and-”  
“Alright, I get it,” Pete laughs, wondering how a man as small as Patrick can fit so much information inside himself. “I’m just glad I don’t have to resort to eating a trucker at the next rest stop we pass.”  
“Or killing off Andy and having me be drummer,” Patrick smirks, elbowing Pete, then reaching to grab a few packs of meat from the shelf in front of them.  
“Or looking for fans at venues with a very intense biting kink.”  
Patrick laughs at that, his first laugh of the night that Pete doesn’t feel any restraint or nervousness behind. He watches the way his eyes crinkle as he laughs, the way his face seems to visibly brighten as he allows himself a little carefree moment. Pete laughs with him, lets himself enjoy the way his heart flutters as Patrick slings an arm around him and steers the both of them to a checkout line. All in all, Pete guesses that there are worse situations that he could be in, because the warmth of Patrick next to him and the way there’s still remnants of his laugh in his voice as he speaks to the cashier sort of trumps the whole scary vampire thing. There’s just something about him that makes the knot of fear in Pete’s chest untangle itself a little, makes him feel like everything might be alright after all.


End file.
